


you've got a lot going for you

by sruoh



Category: Samurai Flamenco
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-12
Updated: 2013-12-12
Packaged: 2018-01-04 09:59:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1079628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sruoh/pseuds/sruoh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Masayoshi isn’t really sure why he’s even doing this anymore."</p>
            </blockquote>





	you've got a lot going for you

**Author's Note:**

> i'm so sad because there's like barely any fics for samurai flamenco and i Need More so i wrote angst for my own guilty pleasure haha??ha......h...a.... so yeah warning for major character death (it's just mentioned it isn't really described)
> 
> the title doesn't make any sense i dont know how to title things im so sorry

His apartment is awfully quiet. The lights are just a bit too harsh. The smell just a little bit off and as he watched those old (childish, he realized that now, they’re oh so childish) shows he noticed that the curry tasted disgustingly bitter.

Masayoshi curled up on the couch and screamed.

* * *

He found out from the news. He vaguely remembered Goto telling him that he’s going on a bust, saying how he’ll be back later that night. He remembered glancing over at the clock noting that it was past the time Goto usually comes over. He remembered turning back to the television. He remembered seeing Goto’s name flash under the deceased.

There were two causalities, the second one being the man who shot him. Masayoshi didn’t feel anything. He should be glad that man was dead, but he realized what good that did him if Goto wasn’t here anymore. Dead, gone, disappeared. He hated those words.

He sent a text anyway, to Goto’s number; he asked when he’ll be coming (home, he almost said. Goto didn’t even live here, he’s so stupid). Masayoshi didn’t receive a response. He didn’t really expect one anyway.

* * *

The funeral was horrible. Masayoshi didn’t cry. He couldn’t cry. Even if he willed himself to, not a single tear would slip out. He smiled politely, a supermodel smile, something fake, when he met Goto’s parents, who said that they were grateful that Goto had a friend like him, and tried his best to comfort a weeping Mari. All the police officers that were there didn’t even give him a second glance. It was quiet, it was short, and when it was over all he wanted to do was take off the tight, black suit and lay in bed.

He didn’t even bother seeing if Goto’s girlfriend was there. It’s not like he could face her. He almost despised her, in a way. She had something he didn’t.

Well, he guessed they both don’t have him now. It’s stupid getting jealous over a dead man’s girlfriend.

* * *

His manager pitied him, but not enough to give him a break. He was back to work 3 weeks after it happened.

“Come on, smile.” The person with the camera urged. He pulled his lips up into a smile but it felt tight and awkward. The smell of perfume was making it hard to breathe, and he was grateful that they called for a fifteen minute break. He pretended to ignore what they said about him. Yes, he knew his smiles were horrible. Yes he knew he looked like he stayed up the last 50 nights. Yes, yes he knew. He looked himself in the mirror everyday wondering why he regarded death as an old friend.

His manager took him to the side, tried to keep her voice down, but she was obviously pissed at him. “What are you doing Hazama-kun? I understand you’ve been through a lot with the death of your friend, but you could at least _try_ here!” She continued to rattle on about how he needed to get his head in the game, and just focus on looking pretty.

He doesn’t think she _really_ understood, but whatever, he’ll try.

When the break is over, and he tried again, Ishihara smiled at him, urged him on and praised him for being a trooper.

Masayoshi isn’t really sure why he’s even doing this anymore.

* * *

He thought he was getting better after two months. He was still doing his modeling jobs, he still watched his shows, and he still ate curry every other day.

When he turned on the TV and the first thing he heard was Samurai Flamenco, his stomach suddenly dropped. It talked about how he has been out of commission for the past couple months, how Flamenco Girl has been doing all the work, questioning if he can really save anybody, let alone the world.

He went to sleep later that night and dreamt that he saved Goto just in time, that Masayoshi swept him off his feet and dipped him down for a kiss, the crowds cheering in rejoice.

When he awoke, he was half hard, alone and Goto was still dead.

* * *

He sat at Goto’s grave and talked.

“I’m not sure if I’m okay. I mean, I haven’t been terribly sad, but I haven’t been happy either.” He waited as if Goto was going to reply. He didn’t, because dead men don’t speak. Masayoshi continued anyway, and licked his dry lips. “I haven’t been sure of many things, actually. I haven’t touched the Samurai Flamenco costume in almost a year, it seems like he- I- whatever is being slowly forgotten. Mari is doing alright though, I think. A better job than what I could’ve done. I’m not even sure what I’m fighting for anyway.”

The wind sighed, as if it was mocking him. “Actually, I do know. I’m fighting for this world, or at least, I’m trying to anyway, but I wonder if this world really needs me or if I’m of any use at all. It seems like people think I’m a joke or something. I think I finally realize this now.”  He laughed, and it’s bitter on his tongue. “God, I’m so stupid, I can’t believe it took me this long to realize this now, after you’ve…”

His throat suddenly closed up; he coughed, once and twice before trying again. “I’m also unsure of my feelings towards you. I don’t think they count anymore since you’re not alive, but-“ Masayoshi suddenly swears “I like- _liked_ you. I really did. You were my first friend. You thought I was annoying and troublesome but you still stayed by my side and I’m grateful for that I-“

Masayoshi suddenly felt a lot better, like a weight has been lifted off his shoulders, as if he could finally breathe. Talking to a grave is surprisingly therapeutic; he now knew why people in the movies did it.

He shifted, brought his legs up so he could rest his chin on his knees, so he could wrap his arms around his legs. It was the closest to a hug he could get right now.

“Thank you, Goto-san.”

* * *

He walked into his closest and looked at his costume (a mask, an identity, something that made him feel good about himself, from what seemed so long ago). He stared at it for a moment, and he suddenly started crying, leaning back against the wall and sliding down. He hid his face in his hands and let himself cry tears that seemed like they wouldn't stop.

But they do, and he stood up. He stood up and he slipped into the tight fitting uniform, something he felt proud wearing. He stood up, and for a moment he looked himself in the mirror.

He didn’t recognize himself, and it didn’t frighten him. He would keep living this life for as long as he can. Goto wasn’t by his side like he hoped he was, but that’s alright.

“It’s going to be okay.”

For once, he believed those words to be true.

 


End file.
